In Command
by Lexie Jayne
Summary: Post Kidz. Jondy's POV. How much are the lives of her siblings worth?


**Title:** In Command

**Author:** Lexie Jayne

**Feedback:** is beloved.

**Pairing:** Jondy/Zack, implied Jondy/Lydecker, Syl/Krit.

**Word Count:** 4 591

**Rating:** M

**Genre:** Angst, Romance, Drama.

**Summary:** Post Kidz. Jondy's POV. How much are the lives of her siblings worth?

**Notes:** As of November 18, the content of this fic has been altered to comply with TOS, and my own change of alias. If you would like to read the original version – and I highly recommend it - of this fic, please visit Written- Word . Org.

**Warnings:** None.

**Spoilers:** Season 1.

**Disclaimer:** Dark Angel belongs to James Cameron, and I make no profit from this fan-based venture.

* * *

_Madness, the dream that is the heart of everything. _– _Tina Arena._

In my city, you can sit in the open air cafes and watch the sector police or whatever go about their business. In my city, business is never legitimate. I wonder what the great Eyes Only would say if he knew that a business woman was shot because she wouldn't pay a bribe. Or that the little girl sitting in the gutter steals her mother's crack because she needs something to ward off the hunger pangs.

I wonder what Zack would say if he knew how far I'd fallen. What he'd say if he found me in this café, smoking and drinking cheap coffee while I watch little children die and ordinary people being murdered by the enemy.

Maybe I should run. Get out of this city and this state. Maybe I should go to Canada.

Ha, I can just imagine it. 'We're going to Canadia!' Like Krit said last time I took him out to get drunk.

I take a long drag on my cigarette, and stare at the wall for a few moments before refocusing on the streets. It's Thursday again. In my mind I can see the days of the weeks in little squares. Friday, Saturday and Sunday are raised squares. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are flat, nasty little squares, a bloody red colour. Thursday isn't a square. It's just a smear of black, something I can wipe away from my mind on Friday morning.

Zack went on for so damn long about how we were free, damnit, and we were meant to keep that freedom at any cost to ourselves. We had to pay any price for our freedom. I wonder what he'd say when he found out how much I was paying.

How much is my self worth, Zack? Tell me, is there any limits on what we should pay out to stay here in this world that doesn't want us. In a world that's against us every god damned day.

Another drag on the cigarette. I wonder what addiction is like. I wonder if I have it. I think it's a nervous thing, really. I have to have one point to rotate around. I guess that used to be Zack.

Now it's smoking. At least I'm thin. I might die one day soon but at least I can say I died young, pretty and thin. Isn't that exactly what Los Angeles is about? I lived the Hollywood dream! I was the American ideal, thin and beautiful, smart and funny, sexy and wholesome with that streak of scandal and sex and pure malice that apparently Americans love. Maybe I should go down and find that old club, what was it called. The Viper Room.

I should go and overdose near the Viper Room and finish living the dream. Like so many actresses before me have done. Found I lost my control and everything was racing to fast and just end it where so many before me have.

What's wrong with me Zack? I didn't use to be like this. I don't feel right anymore. I feel distant and cold.

It's late and I'm back at my apartment, staring in the mirror against my wall. My brown hair is loose around my shoulders. My blue eyes are smudged with black eye shadow. Black leather pants, black tank top, sheer black shirt and black boots. Remind the world I'm lethal.

I want to throw myself into that mirror, to scream until someone comes running and tells me it's going to be okay. Pretty lies. I like them.

I jam some money down my bra and leave my apartment. Usually I wonder if I'll ever see it again, but tonight I'm past caring. You get like that around here.

Or did I do this myself? I did this myself, Zack. You don't have you yell. I know this is my fault and I have to fix it myself but I maybe I like it like this. You said it once, I like self pity. I like wallowing in my own hell.

I like you. But you laughed when I propositioned you, and I don't blame you. I don't know why you didn't want me, but I'm sure there was a good reason.

The night is damp and I make my way slowly to the club, like every other Thursday. The bouncer knows you by now. He lets you in without flinching and the sixty girls outside, dressed to the nines, squeal in indignation. She's such a skank, they cry. I want to turn around and say something catty in reply but when I do. They're just wannabes. In vinyl and silk blends.

At least my clothes are real. Even if I'm not.

No, I'm not Zack. I'm not a real person. I'm Cat Girl, Cat Woman, like in those movies Zane used to show me.

I look around the shiny black and chrome club before claiming a seat, my heart pounding in my chest. I order a beer and drink it slowly. I close my eyes as I swallow and for just a second, it feels like the old Jondy is back for a second and I'm back and I can turn around and run from this city.

How much is my siblings' freedom worth, Zack? How god damned much? Will you hate me because I did this or would you hate me more if I just walked away and let him have Syl and Krit…

Before I can keep my old self, a hand is on my shoulder and I repress a shudder. Lydecker. Every Thursday.

He leads me through the back exit, into the alley. He reeks of stale whiskey and I gag a little as he presses me against the wall.

I'm being a good sister, Zack. You don't want to know what Lydecker told me to get me to agree to this. He threatened Syl. He said he'd hurt her and Maxie and make Krit and you watch. He'd show Zane Brin's mutilated body and I'd be the only one left and I'd be insane with grief.

Grief. Funny word. Sorrow, anguish. Misery. Unhappiness. I bite my lip and a fine line of blood dribbles down my chin. I grieve for myself.

I hate you Zack. You left me alone for too long. You know I used to be prone to trouble and look at me now, Lydecker panting over me like a fucking dog.

Small price to keep us out of Manticore.

Sometimes I wonder if he's lying about knowing where the others are. I asked him once and he chuckled and asked me if I was willing to take the risk that he was lying.

I stayed.

You'd do this if you had to, Zack, I know you would damnit.

I feel cold when Lydecker suddenly moves away from me. I make no noise, but slip to the floor, curling up in a ball.

It's over. I can't do this anymore. I feel broken and old. My neck throbs in pain and I close my eyes, trying not to sob, as some hysteria wells up in me. I wonder if Lydecker would comfort me if I started to cry. About Ben and Brin and Eva. The ones we've lost.

There are hands around my waist and someone is stroking my hair and I come out of my trance. There's yelling and the sound of fighting.

I'm hallucinating. Lydecker's had what he came for and he's gone. Zack wouldn't come to my rescue. He'd count me as a loss, move everyone and change the contact number. I'm too far gone.

I've waited for the day Lydecker took me back to Manticore, but he stayed good on his deal. I used to wonder how lonely he was. Then I stopped.

Does it really matter? I'm lonely too. Maybe that's why I did it.

"Jondy, Jondy, it'll be okay."

Sounds like a song. Maybe a country song. A giggle bubbles up in my throat. I hate country music. I like pop music. Breezy and easy to dance to. Easy not to think about. Just pretty words and music arranged in a way that sounds good.

Like me. Just pretty DNA and genetic arranged in a way that kills well.

But I can't kill myself. I wonder why I don't have a self destruct button. That would be cool. Except I might've rolled onto it during sex or something. That would've sucked.

The cool hands smooth my hair away from my face and I feel something wet slipping down my cheek.

"Jondy, Jondy…"

"Concussion."

"Did you kill him, Zack?"

Well, Zack? Did you? Did you kill the monster? I've been having nightmares again.

I've always wanted a white doona cover. And white pillows. There's something wonderfully serene about a white room I can sleep in. But I don't know if I could. I feel dirty against anything white. Like Tinga's wedding dress.

Tinga.

Cool hands and the smell of lilies. Her perfume. I haven't seen Tinga in a while. I might go up to Portland. I'd like to see Case again.

"Jondy?"

Soft voice. Lilies and antiseptic cream and bandages. I'm in a soft white room, tucked into a soft white bed and there's the sound of the ocean. It's so soft, I can't get over it. Like clouds. I wonder if this is death, softness that cushions the harsh reality that is life.

"Jondy, wake up."

Yes, Jondy, wake up. I've been asleep too long. But I like the soft white room. No one else can get to me here. I'm away from the monsters in the dark, the alley way, the chrome and black of night clubs.

A sharp pain cuts through my thoughts and I whimper. Nothing is quite so soft anymore and I fumble for something my mind can get a grip on.

The white room is lonely. I want a hug.

My eyes open and I want to yell out, laugh, just make some sort of noise for the people gathered around my bed. For a second, they're strangers with blank sympathy and concern on their faces.

Something fades back from my mind and it's like I'm waking up for the first time in months.

"Jondy," Tinga's worried expression vanishes and a look of relief replaces it. "You're okay."

It hurts to move and breathe and I want to know what the hell happened for there to be this much pain. But Lydecker. He'll get the others. He will, I know it.

"Syl and Krit," I manage to croak, pain ripping through my body. "He'll get them and kill them. We've got to help them." I grab Tinga's hands. "Tinga, please, he'll be worse to Syl. He'll make her…"

Tinga shook her head gently. "Syl and Krit are fine. Krit came and stitched you up. They've gone on to San Francisco."

I relax into the bed, and look at her. She's so beautiful, serene and unbelievably clean. People like Tinga's make cleanliness an art form, really. I always wanted to be one of the people.

"Sleep," Tinga orders, but makes it sound more like a suggestion. "Zane and Zack will be back soon."

I shake my head, pain ripping through my neck.

Tinga's relief gives way to concern. "Nightmares, Jondy?"

Like she's asking if I want them. Nightmares, Jondy? No thank you, I have enough already.

I nod slowly. "Yeah, I guess."

"You really need to sleep. Clear up some of the bruising, hopefully," Tinga said, sighing.

"Bruising?" I managed as she tucks me in gently.

"Lydecker banged you up a bit," Tinga replied stiffly. Well yes, but I'm sure Tinga means hitting rather that … the other thing. "Zack got really upset when he saw you."

He did?

Tinga switched off the lamp. "Just sleep for an hour or so. You'll feel a bit better, at least."

"Then, can we talk?" I whispered into the dark room.

"Maybe," Tinga replied. "Get some rest, Jondy."

I don't know when I woke up. Sleep sort of melted into waking up without me noticing. I lay, almost relaxed in bed. I remembered a poem scrawled on the alley wall. 'No more broken dolls.' I don't feel broken anymore.

I wondered if my sanity was back.

"Jondy." Zack appeared in the door way. "Come and have something to eat."

He couldn't even look at me. I knew what he was thinking, that I was weak and I had crumbled under the pressure.

I couldn't even handle an old man like Lydecker.

I struggled to sit up, the pain in my neck rendering me a bit of a mess. I cradled my right arm to me. And shakily followed Zack into the kitchen.

I paused in the hallway mirror and blinked at what apparently was my reflection. Bruises trailed from my left temple to my chin. My left cheek was half covered by a piece of gauze, as was the right side of my head. I looked like I'd been in a car accident.

Tinga and Zane were in the kitchen, as I stumbled in, my dark hair tangled around my face.

"Sit down, Jondy," Zane said, making me sit and handing me a cup of tea. His face, the one so alike to mine it often scared me, was full of worry and concern. "Drink that."

I slump at the table, ignoring the tea, feeling stretched. Too much has happened to fast. I want to cry, but I don't think I know how to. Really cry, I mean. Not that drama, Hollywood-esque sobbing I have down to fine art or short machine-gun like bursts of tears. Simple, real crying that is wet and is raw.

"Jondy?" I thought it would be Tinga who tried to comfort me. It was Zack who pulled a chair up beside me and wrapped him arms around me as I cried into his leather jacket.

And for the first time in months, I didn't want a cigarette.

The tears have passed. My face is red and blotchy but I feel clear. We picked at the pasta Tinga had made. Four people sitting around a table, looking depressed. I'm not selfish enough to know it's all for me. It's not.

"Why…?" I began, putting down my fork.

Everyone looks away from me. I can look over the last few months like it's a movie I've seen, rather that something I did. I dug my own grave and I had to lie in it. I stabbed a tomato particularly viciously and it collapses in on itself, spraying the salad with red juice.

God I feel like that tomato. Just giving in and collapsing in on myself. I feel tears well up again in my eyes, angry ones, but I brush them away and look up at my siblings.

"You've got to talk to me sometime," I said, my voice wavering traitorously.

Zane looked up at me, frowning. "Why were you with Lydecker, Jondy?"

Good question. I want to shake and cry and beg their forgiveness. But I shrug, a movement which my neck hates me for and I lean against the table.

"He was going to kill you all," I said softly. "He told me exactly what he was going to do to you and I couldn't tell if he was lying or not and I didn't want to risk it…"

Zack closed his eyes briefly and stood up. "I need to take a walk."

I know Zack. I know how much you hate what happened and me for letting it happen more than you know.

I'm trying to tell you I did this because it's something you taught me to do for my family.

"It's okay, Jondy," Zane's voice cut through my thoughts. "I understand."

Tinga nods. "I do too."

I grip my fork tightly, feeling the metal bend. "I don't know what happened to me. I just wasn't me anymore. It was like I was back at Manticore." My voice sounds thin in the quiet of the kitchen. Thin and honest. "I didn't know how to get out again. I know I could've called Zack but…"

"Sometimes it isn't that easy," Zane finished for me, his eyes sad.

Tinga abruptly stood up, stacking plates. "Just don't go back there again, you two, okay?"

Zane averted his gaze and nodded. I nodded slowly.

"Good," Tinga said efficiently, smiling at us both. "It's good to see you both. I've missed you."

Zane stands up and envelopes Tinga into a hug and I want that. A Zane hug. Even as a kid, as long as I was with Zane, everything would be okay.

I stood up, wrapping my arms around Zane and Tinga. "Zack finally let us have that family reunion," I said with a ghost of a grin. "Who'd have thought it?"

"Yeah, under great circumstances," Zane said sarcastically. "Deck's molesting my sister, it's reunion time!"

"Shush, Zane," Tinga said forcibly. I've never heard Zane quite that bitter. And Tinga that… motherly.

"How's Case, Tinga?" I ask, pulling away from them both.

Something flashes in Tinga's eyes and she smiles. "Go and have a shower and get cleaned up and I'll go and find some photos."

I don't see Zack for awhile. Apparently, we're staying in Tinga's apartment in some non descript city in Connecticut. It's been four days, and Zack's officially in the world records for longest walk in history.

I haven't wanted to really talk yet and I don't think Tinga really wants me to. Yeah, she cares and she hates what happened but I don't think she wants me to bare my soul to her. And I don't really want to have to tell her how screwed up our world really is, not when she's got Case to worry about.

So, we've been doing girly things. She took me to get my hair cut and we bought some new clothes and painted our nails and rented some Pre Pulse movies.

Zane's gone back to Las Vegas. He wanted to stay but he didn't want to lose his job. Tinga and I insisted he go, but to call us whenever we could. I think maybe things are changing. Maybe we'll see each other more now.

I still need to talk though. I need someone to hear about every Thursday. I need to know what happened that last night. I just need someone there.

I don't think I'm quite as crazy as I was a week ago. I think I'm crawling out of wherever I fell to. I'm almost back to old Jondy who could laugh and smile without her neck hurting.

Tinga said vaguely that I got kicked in the back during the fight which is why my neck aches. What fight? I can't remember anything, which Tinga says is the shock.

I think it's because my mind is coming back to me. I'm not about to crash again. I lie on my bed, watching the stars in the sky. Tinga's asleep. The whole apartment is virtually silent. Just everything settling.

A key scrapes in the lock and I find myself sitting up in the darkness, my hand fumbling for some sort of weapon. My hand lands on a gun I didn't know was under the pillow. I pull it out, flick the safety off and slip from my bedroom. Tinga's doing the same in her room and nods as I move forward, into the lounge room.

The intruder tosses something onto the couch. Before he can do anything else, I've got him pinned to the wall, gun resting casually against his temple.

I don't get a chance to utter any threats, as he knocks away the gun and grabs the space between my neck and shoulder, where the pain lies dormant unless, say, someone grabs me and I instantly recoil, howling in shock.

A sharp kick to the intruder's knee and we were both on the flow, him pinning me down.

"Jondy! Zack!" Tinga's flicked on the light, her gun loose in her hands.

I freeze as I see Zack pick himself up off the floor, a glint in his eye. "Good reflexes, Jondy," he said. "Anything to eat?"

I trail after them into the kitchen, wanting some sign that he's thought about what I said before he walked out.

"I'm going back to bed," Tinga yawned, as she passed Zack a half empty pizza box from the fridge. "See you in the morning."

I sat opposite Zack, as he wolfed down the pizza. "Where were you?" I asked, almost accusingly.

Zack froze and looked up. "Ben was causing some problems," he finally replied. "He's moved on now."

I nod, picking up a paper napkin from a stack on the table and begin to shred it.

Zack pushed the pizza box away from himself. "I …" he began and stopped, sighing. "Jondy, nothing's ever black and white for us. You know that."

"I do."

"What you did with Lydecker," he paused, staring at his hands. "Was the right thing to do."

I blinked and stood up, opening the fridge. "It sure as hell doesn't feel like the right thing," I snapped, eyeing each thing in the fridge with distrust. "It feels like Manticore."

Zack leant back in his chair. "The right thing never feels like the right thing, Jondy. But it sure as hell would feel good if the alternative was to have Syl and Krit and Zane recaptured. You know I need those three."

"I do."

I do. Why does it feel like I'm committing myself to something?

"Is Lydecker dead?" I asked, opening the freezer and reaching for the carton of ice cream. "I hope he choked on his own vomit."

Zack shook his head, looking up at me with wild, wide eyes. "He's still alive, Jondy. I couldn't kill him. I couldn't do it, after what he did to you, to me, to Brin, to Eva." His head falls into his hands and for a second I feel his pain. I know what it's like not to have control over yourself and your actions.

"It makes you so much better than him, Zack," I sat down opposite him, leaning over and wrapping my arms around him. "If he can look at Eva and kill her, destroy Brin, bury you alive and … hurt me and you can still justify why not to kill him, it makes you a better person than him. It makes you more human."

Zack pulled away from me. "I will do it, one day Jondy," his voice is blank.

"I know you will," I replied, opening the ice cream. "And I want to be there when you do it. But I admire you for still managing to restrain yourself from doing it now."

Zack relaxed again and motioned for me to pass him the ice cream. "I wanted to ask you something, Jondy?"

I gave him a bewildered look. "What?"

"I want you to take over."

I stood up so fast, my chair fell over. "What?" I cried out.

Zack looked at the ice cream melting on the spoon. "Tinga's going to go back to her family soon, her resolve to keep them safe by staying away is wavering. I need someone who can take over if something goes wrong like it did last time."

I stared at him. "I don't know if I could…"

"Travelling with me for a few months, learning everything," Zack shrugged. "I really want you to do this, Jondy. You're the only one with the stomach for it."

"I suppose the Lydecker thing proved that to you?" I said dully.

"No. The way you've moved passed it. The way Syl and Krit were your primary concern when you regained consciousness. You could be a good SIC, Jondy."

I faltered. That's practically the highest form of compliment you can get from Zack.

"Okay. You and me."

"You and me."

* * *

I sat in the dingy hotel room, my brown hair braided and my clothes relatively grungy.

"I want to come with you. It's Tinga we're talking about," I demanded, glaring at Zack.

Zack pulled a shirt on. "Jondy, it's not practical to have CO and SIC in the one situation. I need you and Zane on the outside in case the whole thing goes sideways."

"I thought your plan was foolproof. That's what you said when Max lost Tinga in Seattle," I said moodily.

"Jondy," Zack said in a warning tone. "Look, Ben's been AWOL for way too long. I just want you to keep an eye on things. I should be back in a week. Hell, I'll meet you and Zane in Vegas and you two can show me a good time. I'll even take you dancing."

My resolve was weakening. I nodded slowly. "Okay, fine. Go without me. Give Maxie my love though," I said softly, picking up Zack's gun and holding it out for him to take. "Don't go and do something stupid liking getting yourself hurt." Or killed.

Zack took the gun, slipping it in his holster. "I won't," he said softly, looking into my eyes.

"It's Lydecker. I know what he can do," I looked away. "Please be careful."

Zack pulled on his leather jacket and grabbed his motorcycle keys. "Why? Do you worry about me?" he asked as I stood up and walked over to him.

"You know I do," I said softy, as he reached for me.

"I promise I'm coming back," he said softly, cupping my face gently before kissing me gently. I unconsciously took a step backwards in shock wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands dropped from my face, wrapping his arms around my waist. Finally, he pulled back, his hands dropping away from my waist.

"You're in command now," he said softly, his eyes clouded over for a second. And I kissed him again. Once more for luck.

* * *


End file.
